


First Commandment

by A_Dying_Wolf_Dying_With_Dignity



Category: Kaze to Ki no Uta | Song of Wind and Trees
Genre: Angst, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23176756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Dying_Wolf_Dying_With_Dignity/pseuds/A_Dying_Wolf_Dying_With_Dignity
Summary: "I am the Lord your God... you shall have no other gods before me" (Exodus 20:2-3).Serge is no god, but Karl finds himself wishing to serve him as if he was one.——Alternate Title: May I Serve You, Too?
Relationships: Karl Meiser/Serge Battour, One-Sided Karl Meiser/Serge Battour
Kudos: 7





	First Commandment

_Since when did Serge fall asleep?_

The boys in the Class B common room must have wondered this in unison, for when the church bells outside rang, signaling the time for supper, Kurt and Nekka had turned their heads to urge their friends to follow them to the cafeteria, only to find Serge sprawled out on one of the sofas, fast asleep with a book folded open on his chest. Before then, he was amongst the many other boys who had come from playing war games outside to rest here, and indeed there had been a point an hour earlier where he quieted down to enjoy some light reading, but that was the last time anyone paid attention to him. On any other day, he'd still be awake and his energetic self, but perhaps today marks the rare occasion where he's exhausted himself more than usual.

Now, with him in this vulnerable state, the response that comes is immediate: Kurt is already on the hunt for something he can use to draw on his face. Should nothing else suffice, he'll just resort to the black dust from the unused coals-

"Do not even _try_ , Kurt."

"Aw, come on, Karl! You're no fun!"

One could say that is precisely Karl's job - to be "no fun", that is - but he brushes the remark off as he's used to doing. "I will not warn you a second time. Go follow the others to the cafeteria. I'll stay behind to wake Serge up."

To back him up, thank the heavens, is Pascal, who wedges himself between the two and starts pushing Kurt, and soon Nekka as well, towards the door. "You heard the man, get a move on! See how just about everyone else is already gone? If Karl and Serge end up hungry tonight because we couldn't get them supper on time, you'll be the one to blame, Stachler."

Kurt, unable to argue, simply sticks his tongue out and concedes, walking out with a huff and Nekka at his side. Right before taking his own leave, Pascal gives Karl a thumb's up, and is gone soon after. At least Karl has him to rely on when Serge is either unavailable or is just as childish.

Speaking of, he turns back to his friend on the sofa. He takes a knee beside him, close to his face. This isn't the first time he's fallen asleep in a public area, and is a deep sleeper on top of that, so Karl knows it takes quite a bit of time for him to wake up completely, hence why he let their friends go on ahead.

The first thing he does is slip the book out of his hands, closing it and setting it on the floor to be picked up later. Then he places a hand on one of his shoulders as preparation for shaking him awake.

However, he doesn't, at least not right away. Instead, he studies Serge's face, how peaceful he looks when he isn't bothered by academics or the boys' endless games.

Now that he thinks about it, it _might_ be funny if he were to wake up with some sort of drawing on his face (so long as it's school-appropriate, of course). He can imagine him walking about whilst still possibly groggy from his nap, oblivious to any snickers until it's pointed out to him or the photography club captures the moment. And maybe, just maybe, he would "confiscate" those photos, only so he could keep them for himself-

_Wait, no-_

Realizing what he's thinking about, he shakes his head, as if that's supposed to "shake" the idea out. _You have been over this, Karl, there is nothing you can do. Mulling over this any further will only... will only hurt you even more._ The fact he understands what it's like to feel hurt over this is shameful enough.

It's difficult to pinpoint the exact date or time his constant worrying over Serge turned into this strange... "endearment". (Is that the right word?) He's always been in admiration of him and his influence over this school, yes, and even a bit envious at times. (Then again, who isn't?)

All he _truly_ knows is that one day, whenever that was, while following Serge to one of their classes, Serge had looked back and smiled at him in the midst of their conversation, and without a second thought he decided he'd follow him anywhere. None of God's teachings throughout his life could have ever prepared him for that moment.

Returning his attention to Serge's sleeping form, he notices that his hand is no longer cupping his shoulder but his _cheek_ (which he must've done subconsciously, much to his embarrassment). It's soft beneath Karl's thumb, but given the light, contrasting firmness in his jawline against his other fingers, it's sure to harden over time along with the rest of him. His body is suited for someone so athletic, able to endure just about anything once he sets his mind to it.

He'll need that drive if he continues down the path he's taking because of _Gilbert_.

Karl might be the more innocent of their group of friends, but he isn't _always_ clueless, especially when it comes to what he's witnessed bloom between his dear friend and his roommate. Since his arrival, he's watched Serge rise and fall following each of his interactions with Gilbert. He listens to him sort out his turmoil, wishing he could provide the right amount of wisdom he needs, unable to because where Serge is going is uncharted territory, out of everyone else's reach, including his own. There is nothing he can do other than ready himself for the likelihood of Serge driving himself into heartbreak.

Except, he can't _stand_ knowing this is his role in Serge's life. Why should he remain powerless in this time where Serge has no choice but to guide himself through his own feelings? How can he begin to compare _himself_ to someone so strong and distinctive among others whereas _he_ allows himself to blend into the crowd?

With Karl's admiration comes memories of a simpler time, when it was easier to believe everything was in accordance with God's plan, even in regards to the anomaly that is Gilbert Cocteau, even in regards to his very brief attraction towards him long ago. How naive he used to be before all this... before _Serge_ entered his life. Perhaps he should question his presence more, or even question God's intentions in providing him someone he wishes to serve other than Him, before he does anything else.

And yet, he still gives in, leaning in to cover his lips with his own. It winds up as nothing more than a brush, for he's upright again in no time, but it solidifies the harrowing pang in his chest all the same. This is how it should be, he supposes, under the guise of a boy who can't _possibly_ understand what it's like to feel just like this, prepared to continue following Serge for so long as he's still within his reach - or, at least until Gilbert takes him farther down that path, away from both himself _and_ God.

_... Right, I should wake him up now._

Shaking Serge awake is a slow yet steady process, as expected. He calls out his name once, twice (and not just for the sake of saying his name aloud), before tanned eyelids slide open halfway, blinking the fog away from his vision.

He hums softly as he recalls to himself where he is and who is with him right now. "Mm... Karl...?" He pushes himself into sitting up on the sofa, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes. "Did I... Did I fall asleep? What... time is it?"

But before Karl could answer, his sight was already set upon the clock hanging over the fireplace. That alone seems to wake him up entirely. "Is it already that time?!" he exclaims, much to the other's surprise. "We're late for supper, aren't we- O-Oh, and you stayed behind to wake me! Karl, I am _so_ sorry-"

"Serge, please, it's alright," Karl assures him, unfamiliar with this role reversal of himself _not_ being the one outwardly panicking. "Pascal made it clear he wouldn't let us go hungry and is sure to keep his word... You _should_ treat this as a reminder to not overexert yourself when playing those games with Kurt and the others outside, though."

"I-I see. Yes, you... you _are_ right about that." Upon Serge calming down, Karl picks his book off the floor from where he placed it earlier and hands it back to him. "Thanks... Thank you for always looking after me, really."

"Oh, um, well, there's no need for that." Karl can't decide whether he's more surprised by the sudden gratitude or more confused. Whatever the case may be, it doesn't stop him from staring at his lips, and he hopes Serge doesn't take notice. "Friends take care of each other, even when it comes to something trivial as this."

Even during times when he can't bring himself to say anything else on the matter, only resign to his silent devotion. Gilbert should consider himself lucky.

He rises into a standing position. "Come, let's get supper now. Pascal promised he would grab food for us, but-"

"-there's no way to protect our food from Kurt and Nekka forever," Serge completes his sentence, the smile he forms a knowing one as he slides off the sofa and onto his feet. "No need to fret - if I must, I'll fight them for the both of us."

Karl tries his best not to frown. He really _shouldn't_ say things like that, for if only he knew the effect of those words: It reminds him how he can never do the same, all part of his powerless role in God's plan for this second idol.

Instead, he smiles back, prompting Serge to lead him out of the common room. He follows from a short distance behind, as he always does. As he should.


End file.
